


Drunken Escapades

by Runners in the Glade (Beautiful_lies_x)



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2489423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_lies_x/pseuds/Runners%20in%20the%20Glade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked:</p><p>PROMPT called the wrong number while drunk au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Escapades

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm Bethany, aka (Beautiful-lies-x on Tumblr) and these are a whole bunch of prompts I got on there which I am posting here. Feel free to head over to beautiful-lies-x.tumblr.com and send me a prompt, okay?

Thomas rolled over, irritation seeping through every pore of his body. He blindly slapped his bedside table in an attempt to silence the ringing phone. Finally, his uncooperative fingers gripped the device and he brought it to his ear. 

"Hello?" He murmured, groggy.

There was a loud crash on the other side, before hysterical laughter reached his ears. “Newt!” The boy on the other end slurred out. “Neeeewwwwt.” he repeated, before collapsing back into laughter.

Thomas frowned in confusion at his phone, “It’s three AM,” he groaned, “And my name is Thomas.” He contemplated hanging up, but he was stricken with a sudden intrigue to hear the drunk man’s response.

"Newt." He repeated, slightly more serious. "Now is not the time for jokes. You promised you’d pick me up!"

"Oh, Jesus Chr-" Thomas swore. "I am NOT this Newt person!" This time, he did hang up, furiously and ferociously. The brunet rolled over to return to his slumber, muttering a tired but spiteful, "Drunken idiot!", to the man who could no longer hear him.

 

The phone was ringing again, five minutes later, when sleep was almost in Thomas’ reach. “You are kidding me!” he exclaimed, answering the phone. “I swear to GOD!” He raved, “What? What? What?” He bit, more aggravated with each repeated word.

"Newt," the boy on the other end said, clearly. "I cannot believe you hung up on me. I hope you know that I clicked the redial number as soon as I got over my distress." his words were slurred, but the sarcasm was clear as crystal.

Thomas rubbed a hand over his face, he needed to stop answering his phone. “Listen, whatever your name is-"

"-Minho!" The boy-Minho, Thomas supposed- inserted, affronted. "How can you not remember my name! I'm your best friend!"

"Actually," Thomas interrupted, but Minho steam-rolled onwards.

"Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say that you like Alby more than me, because I know it isn't true Issac!"

Thomas slapped a hand to his face, who the hell was Issac? “Minho!” he interrupted forcefully. “My name is Thomas Green! You've got the wrong number!”

The silence on the other end was astonishing, for a second Thomas thought he’d been hung up on, until Minho released a long, continuous groan that sounded suspiciously like, “Shucking hell!”

There was loud cursing for a while until Thomas timidly broke in, “Uh, sorry, but I’d kind of like to sleep tonight, I have an exam in the morning, so…?”

"Yeah!" Minho exclaimed, "Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, I thought you were-"

"-Newt." Thomas finished, "Yeah, I know."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." The phone line beeped flat, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

 

The phone rang again, at 2pm. This time, Thomas answered quickly and professionally, in case it was his boss calling to confirm his days off next week. “Hello, Thomas Green speaking, who’s this?” he said crisply.

There was an awkward cough on the other end before a British accent broke in distantly. “Well? Go on, you shank! Apologise to the poor boy!”

Silence. Then, a dull thud as what sounded like a hand, but could have quite possibly been a book, connected with what Thomas could only assume was the back of the caller’s head.

"Hello?" Thomas prompted, but the other person wasn’t listening.

"Really, slinthead? Low blow! You don’t need to throw your shucking books at me! I was going to apologise, Newt!"

Thomas breathed through his nose. ‘Minho.’ He thought.

Minho suddenly seemed quieter, “Thomas,” he paused, “Wait, your name is Thomas right? I thought it was, but I was pretty sloshed last night, so for all I know, it could be Bob.”

Thomas laughed loudly, earning glares from his fellow, studying peers. “It’s Thomas.” he whispered.

Minho nodded, satisfied, turning to the blonde behind him. “See? At least I remembered that. I didn’t, I don’t know, say, abandon my drunk friend so I could make out with my boyfriend!”

Newt flipped him off without even the curtsey of looking at him.

"What?" Thomas laughed on the other end, confused. 

"Nothing, sorry, sorry. I just wanted to apologise for last night, I was really drunk and I think I might have dialled the wrong number."

"Might’ve." Thomas replied, the shushing noises echoed through the phone, causing Minho’s nose to scrunch up adorably in uncertainty. 

"Are you studying?" he asked, Thomas certainly sounded young enough to be in university. 

Thomas hummed on the other end, “I’m studying Neuroscience right now, but I’m actually majoring in Engineering.” 

Minho whistled, “You’re mad! I’m on an athletic scholarship, studying physical health.”

Thomas replied quickly, “Where do you go?”

Minho paused, uncertain of whether or not he should share this information with the kid he called drunk, but he went for it anyway. He sounded pretty cute, okay? It was just logical. “James Dashner, you?”

Thomas gasped excitably. “Me too! WICKED building.” 

Minho grinned, “Runner.”

"Aw, man!" Thomas groaned, "That’s so cool!" 

Someone shushed him insistently, but he simply rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

"What?" Minho frowned, "I didn’t say anything."

Thomas laughed, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

"Oh," The Asian dragged out.

"I better go." Thomas said uncertainly, "You know, work and stuff."

"Yeah," Minho agreed, watching out of the corner of his eye as Newt suddenly sprung up. The blonde desperately mouthed something he couldn’t understand. Minho sighed, "Thomas, will you hold on for a moment?" He tucked the phone to his chest. "What?" He exclaimed, exasperated. 

"Ask him out!" Newt pointed to the phone excitably. "Do it! Do it!" 

"You’re shuckin’ crazy!" Minho snapped, "I don’t even know him!"

"Yet." Newt deadpanned. "You don’t know anyone at first, give it a shot!"

Minho graced him with a long suffering look before holding the phone back up to his ear. “I better let you go then, Tom.”

Newt groaned in disappointment, his body sagging with the effort.

"Yeah." Thomas affirmed, there was a beat of silence, and then: "I would’ve said yes, you know."

"You would have said yes to what?" Minho asked. 

He frowned when Newt suddenly sprung into action at his words, mouthing “Get some, Min. GET SOME!”

Thomas grinned, “If you’d asked me out. I would have said yes.”

And the line went dead.

 


End file.
